


endless minutes

by Vilna



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Trans Character, F/M, Gentleness, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22305325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vilna/pseuds/Vilna
Summary: Krem has needed to learn how to be gentle again.
Relationships: Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi/Female Inquisitor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68





	endless minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Recently started another playthrough with my favourite inquisitor and found myself still being intensely disappointed I couldn't at least _flirt_ Krem so idk here we are!! I've not written anything Dragon Age related in years so this is a just a small piece of a bigger fic that could have been, but I don't have the time to work on right now, RIP. 
> 
> If you're curious about what my inquisitor looks like here's a couple of examples: [x](https://ladywoolsley.tumblr.com/post/190231890014/shes-tired-of-talking-flirting-with-all-these) [x](https://ladywoolsley.tumblr.com/post/190250460839/i-think-ill-enjoy-having-you-around-sera-i-hope). Her name is Sage but it literally doesn't matter at all as it's not mentioned in the fic & I don't think I excessively described her looks, either. I feel kind of weird writing about my ocs and Krem's PoV makes her seem like an overly perfect Mary Sue which is a big yikes for me so I really hope that's not off putting! Ohh, and if the pronouns are a bit messed up sometimes, that's because I don't write a lot of F/M.
> 
> ANYWAY kudos & comments of any kind are: ♥

Krem’s armor weighs on him, wavers his steps all the way down to his small secluded room in the tavern. When he finally takes it off and peels the rest of the layers away, he sees how his skin is bruised and dented from the long battle and the journey back to Skyhold. It’s a sight that makes his breathing go shallow.

Krem wonders what Lavellan is doing at the moment and where she even _is_. It plagues his over exhausted mind. He misses her, always misses her like one would miss a phantom limb. It’s not a new feeling, but the sheer intensity of it makes it strange. He has never cared about anyone like this. Of course he loves the Bull and the rest of the boys, but it’s not comparable for this feeling underneath his ribs - like he will perish if he doesn’t get to have Lavellan safe and secure in his arms again.

He’s impossibly protective of her, would fight the world just for her to be able to close her eyes for more than six hours a night. He usually sleeps in her quarters even though the largeness of them makes him feel a little uneasy, like someone could jump them at any minute. Sometimes, too seldom, Lavellan joins him in Herald’s Rest for a drink and hides the night in his crowded room, just to have a moment of peace without someone demanding her up before the morning light. Just to get to sleep over dawn and wake him up with a sweet kiss to his nape.

Krem misses her already. He cares for her _so much_ and he knows, he just _knows_ it’s a feeling he will be buried in, no matter when he’s going to die.

It’s small hours by the time she finally slips into his arms again. It's comforting, after so many long days and nights in the Wilds without her. Krem appreciates the feel of her bare body against his, the crown of her hair under his chin and the hands entwined between their chests.

“Hey,” Krem whispers and curls his arms more tightly around her and lets himself feel the bumps of her spine under his calloused palms. He presses a tender kiss on her forehead. Through it all, his heart is beating twice as hard as it should while resting.

“You’re warm,” she murmurs to his neck, words muffled and exhausted, breaths a slow stream. She’s just about to collapse from lack of sleep, Krem can tell.

“Everything okay?” he asks quietly, stroking her back soothingly. 

Lavellan’s body is soft, not particularly muscled or hard, despite the time she spends in the sparring ring and battlefield. He swears he can hear her magic crackling in her inner core, though, as strange as it is. He doesn’t know a lot about that sort of stuff, but he knows she’s a skilled necromancer. It’s one of the things that scares and fascinates him the most about her.

“Yes,” she says, with a little delay, “just really tired. I think Josie took pity on me so she called off the meeting earlier than was intended.”

Krem hums under his breath and kisses her hair, can’t quite help himself from trying to offer comfort. She doesn’t necessarily need it, she’s the strongest person he’s ever known, but he likes to give her all that he is.

Lavellan yawns and after a moment Krem thinks she has fallen asleep, but then she asks, “Are you?”

His eyes are closed and he feels like he’s floating on a sea of nothingness. “Hm?”

Lavellan voice is but a murmur. “Are _you_ alright?”

Krem considers his answer carefully. He decides to tell her the half truth: “Could be worse.”

Lavellan chuckles against his collarbone. She’s so sweet. “It always could. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth talking about.”

Krem considers her words. The Arbor Wilds were big and green and endless. “I was scared,” he admits with a little difficulty. He’s not used to giving his heart in a silver platter. “For you.”

Lavellan lifts her head from his chest and watches him closely, so closely it heat ups his neck. Her gaze is always so intense, it always feels like she’s trying to reach his soul with it.

Perhaps she can.

“I was with the chief and the other boys fighting the templar bastards outside that temple. It was fun, you know I like fighting with the boys. But the whole time I kept thinking about you and how you were. Got a few proper bruises to show for it, too.”

Lavellan’s hand is over one of them, a sore blue spot over his ribs. He sees her jaw flex, but she doesn’t offer to heal him, as he has always refused in the past. For anything serious he goes to Stitches, but otherwise he likes the reminders of a good fight.

Krem swallows. He covers Lavellan’s hand with his own. “I didn’t know if you were even alive.”

Lavellan is quiet as she often is in these kind of situations. She spares most of her words for the public that are eager for her attention, she’s a charismatic leader but like this, under the low light of the morning to come, wrapped in Krem’s arms - she only says things that matter.

Krem knows she’s not going to apologise. She can’t. He should be fine with that.

“I appreciate your concern,” Lavellan whispers as endless minutes has passed. Krem is grateful she doesn’t dismiss his fears as needless. He knows she can handle herself, better than anyone else he knows, but it doesn’t make him any less worried.

She cups his cheek with her impossibly small hand, strokes her thumb against the corner of his chapped lips. 

She smiles. It makes Krem’s breathing get off track.

They share a look and the next thing he knows Lavellan has crawled on top of him and is kissing him with bottled up enthusiasm.

It’s not a surprise that Lavellan is the one to initiate it. She always is. She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to go after it. Krem is different. He knows what he wants but doesn’t know how to ask for it.

He’s ridiculous but she doesn’t care, never has. She only laughs into his mouth, a quiet and a happy sound, and kisses him some more. It makes Krem burn with the intimacy of it all, of her damp lips against his too dry ones.

She’s pretty and needy underneath his battle rough palms and soil dirtied nails as he kisses her, the desperation of her voice meaningful to him. She’s small and lithe against him but not without curves and softness around her thighs and breasts, with a few lines of stretch marks and scars ornamenting them. She is beautiful and isn’t afraid to demand him everything he has. She’s fisting his hair to guide his mouth with however she wants it.

He wants to take care of her, in the way she deserves to - if only he knew the best way to do it without fucking it all up.

Things between them are still fragile and new. It has barely been a month when Lavellan first kissed him completely out of the blue after a few drinks as the chief and the others’ cheered and hollered at them. Even though it was only a matter of time when it would happen, it had surprised Krem thoroughly. So he had only stood there as still as a statue of Andraste until she took his hand and lead him to his own room.

Krem has needed to learn how to be gentle again, he almost forgot the skill after starting to do mercenary work for a living. There’s not a lot of space for tenderness or relationships in his kind of living style. He used to fuck with Stitches, casual and fun, sometimes with Dalish and Skinner before they were in love and happily exclusive. But this is different. In so many ways, he can’t count. Lavellan burns against him, skin glowing and smile breathtaking, naked and willing. Krem grips her bare ass with his palm, the shape of it plump with a bit of cellulite. Lavellan goes immediately breathless on top of him and tugs the collar of his night shirt.

“Can I take this off?” she asks. She always asks, despite Krem never saying no. He appreciates how thoughtful she is, how she makes sure he feels comfortable and safe before they go further.

“Yeah,” Krem murmurs and she helps him out of it by pulling from the sleeves, laughing as the shirt get caught around his ears. Krem takes off his pants with a little fumbling and then they are both naked in the bed together. Krem can feel his pulse floundering in his neck, but he’s not really nervous like this in front of her. Not anymore.

Lavellan sits on top of his stomach with her legs glued into his sides, keeping him still. She smiles down at him. 

She’s breathtaking. Krem has never known anyone like her.

“You’re beautiful,” he gasps out, somewhat awed. Lavellan’s eyes are like a sunrise.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she says, voice teasing but gentle like she always is to him. But It has never made him feel like he’s being coddled. It's one of the things he hates the most.

Krem grins back. “Thanks, man.”

Lavellan chuckles, something resembling almost a giggle, as she leans down and bites down on his shoulder. It makes him immediately groan.

“Shit.”

She opens her braid before it all and lets the long waves of her hair flow freely across her back, easily accessible. She also makes a fuss of finding and putting on some kind of lip balm that tastes like crystal grace before kissing him again with more purpose. After that it’s a mess of teeth and lovebites, hard and strong and tender and _hot_. 

He will always remember how small she is on top of him, how he fears she’ll break from a touch too harsh. He will remember the feel of her breast on his palm, the wetness underneath his calloused fingertips, how she feels when he presses them inside, silky soft and molten. He will remember how she moans: needy and almost pleading, voice high with pleasure. He will remember the moment when she finally comes with a tight grip on his shoulder, with nails pressed into his flesh and toes curled. Most of all he will remember how she is completely breathless afterwards with slight sheen of sweat glistening on her skin and eyes dim and hazy. Beautiful.

Lavellan sighs her pleasure onto his lips and moves closer, always closer. Krem wraps his arms around her naked back and keeps her near as she comes down from her high, her body weak from her orgasm. A moment later she slides her hand to his inner thigh, the touch so light it almost tickles. She hesitates, just for a moment, and meets his eyes with her own.

Krem nods. She kisses the circle of freckles on his shoulder.

An hour later he thinks what he should say to her.

Lavellan hasn’t fallen asleep yet, despite being wrecked by exhaustion. She’s always been a bad sleeper, she told him, when they first slept together and she kept rolling and moving around in bed. She has begun to take a potion for it, but she ran out in the Wilds. A lot of things ran out in the Wilds.

Yes, she is awake, face tucked into the curve of his neck, her finger drawing odd shapes onto his shoulder. He’s at a loss.

“I feel things for you,” is the sentence that leaves from his lips in the end. He flushes all the way down the back of his neck, but she doesn’t laugh at him. When he turns to look at her, she only smiles, kind and understanding, like he’s not an idiot with a cursed mouth.

Then Lavellan moves even closer to him and angles his face towards hers, so near that the tips of their noses touch. She looks at him with a considering expression before pressing a feather light kiss to his cheekbone. 

“I feel things for you, too,” she murmurs with an air of seriousness, eyes tired but vivid with the honest truth of her words. Krem knows she means it, he can see it in her fond gaze before she closes her eyes again and snuggles closer to his warmth.

Krem smiles in a way he’s sure makes his dimples pop out. He kisses her forehead and tucks an idle hair strand behind her ear, fingering the curls falling down her scarred back like a river.

“Sleep now, _fenor_ ,” Lavellan says against his pulse point, the skin over it starting to flutter under her breaths. He shivers.

Shit. He cares for her so much, it makes him doubt his entire fucking existence. He feels stupid with it. He _is_ stupid with it, yet he doesn’t regret her or any of this for a second. 

They are worth it. 

Krem smiles and welcomes in the morning. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. ♥
> 
> my gaming blog: [x](https://ladywoolsley.tumblr.com/)


End file.
